A Heart Given to Know Me
by TortiQuercu
Summary: Agent John Garrett is on bedside duty when Skye finally wakes up in Intensive Care. Sequel to Under His Skin, written by request for emmy-kent and Joy Booth. Spoilers for 1:13 T.R.A.C.K.S. Skyeward!


**A/N: This is the sequel to _Under His Skin_, written by request for emmy-kent and Joy Booth! Thanks also go out to Zack from the FF Support Desk, who added John Garrett to the AoS characters list... I think we're gonna him for sure once episode 1:14 Tahiti airs! Should be obvious, but spoilers for 1:13 T.R.A.C.K.S. in this one-shot.**

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><p><em>"On the march, through the hot days of early April, he carried the pebble in his mouth, turning it with his tongue, tasting sea salt and moisture."<em>

Light was pricking at the backs of her eyelids, slowly rousing her. She wanted to open her eyes but they were full of sea salt, itchy and sealed shut. The dilemma weighed her down, and so she did nothing.

_"His mind wandered. He had difficulty keeping his attention on the war. On occasion he would tell at his men to spread out the column, to keep their eyes open, but then he would slip away into daydreams…"_

Keep their eyes open, or slip away into daydreams. Which was it supposed to be? She felt like she had been floating in daydreams for a long time now, maybe she was supposed to try harder to open her eyes. She couldn't do both, that was silly.

_"… just pretending, walking barefoot along the Jersey shore, with Martha, carrying nothing. He would feel himself rising. Sun and waves and gentle winds, all love and lightness."_

Love and lightness, yes, that's what was pricking at her eyes. But who the hell was Martha? The more aware she became, the less sense things were making. And wait, who was talking?

_"What they carried varied by mission_…. oh! Hey! You're awake! I'll be damned."

It took a moment or two for Skye to realize that _she_ was awake, that her eyes were now open and stinging from the sea salt. She tried to lift a hand to her cheek to wipe it away, but she was tangled, tied down. She tried to speak, but her mouth wouldn't open and her throat was dry and it _hurt_.

"It's okay, Skye," said the voice. "Don't panic. I know you feel terrible, but you're gonna be okay."

Skye blinked back the light and looked around. She was in a small room… a hospital? Everything was white except the unfamiliar man sitting calmly beside her. He was smiling warmly, a book open in his lap and glasses perched on the tip of his nose. She tried to speak again, resulting in a painful squawk.

"Oh, right!" exclaimed the unknown man, putting his book down. "Don't try to talk, honey, you've got an endotracheal tube in. They left a tablet for you, though, lemme set it up for you."

Skye watched the friendly stranger as he pulled a tablet computer and a portable keyboard from a bag, and he stood up beside her bed.

"You're probably wondering who the hell I am," he grinned at her, his eyes twinkling. She smiled weakly and tried to nod. "My name is John Garrett. I'm Grant Ward's old supervising officer, believe it or not. So we're practically family."

Agent Garrett had to laugh at the spark suddenly appearing in the young woman's eyes when he said 'family'. "Haha, Grant thought you might appreciate the connection. He's still here, they all are… everyone is safe and sound. It's about three in the morning though, I've been kicking them all out at night. I like the night shift, peaceful and quiet, good for reading. We've gone through an impressive stack of books together, you and I."

He had finished fussing with the tablet, her hand now rested comfortably on the small portable keyboard. She slowly moved her fingers over the surface, typing out "thanks".

John nodded. "No problem, kiddo. First things first… how are you feeling?"

"awful", she typed stiffly, but the hint of a smile tugged at her lips. "quinn?"

"In the fridge as we speak, thanks to you," Agent Garrett replied, sitting back down in the chair. He pulled a cellphone out of his pocket, and quickly tapped something out on it. "Now before you start asking all sorts of questions about Italy, remember that I'm not cleared to know much about your operation. Whatever you remember, you're going to have to report that to Coulson directly."

Skye nodded slightly. She lifted a shaky finger and he followed her gesture to the paperback he had placed on the nightstand.

"Oh, the book? That's _The Things They Carried_ by Tim O'Brien. I read you a couple by him. If you had any dreams about the Vietnam War, well…. that's probably why."

Another faint smile. John couldn't help but beam back at her. She was a darling little thing, even this pale and languid. She tapped weakly at the keyboard, and he glanced over. "cold".

The older agent looked around the room, spying a cart in the corner filled with linens. He pulled a couple of thin blankets from it and spread them over Skye. "Hmph. Can't say much about the quality of the bedding here, sorry about that. I'll have to rustle up something comfier later. Speaking of comfy, how's your pain level?"

His voice was warm and sincere, and Skye couldn't stop the tears that sprang to her eyes. His brow furrowed in concern, she tried to shake her head to allay his concern. She wrote out a longer message: "no pain, drugged already? just that you so nice. you really robot's so?"

Agent Garrett blinked at the tablet several times before bursting out in hearty laughter. "Yes, I sure was! Robot, eh? Poor Grant. He's a good kid, you know, he just takes everything he does very seriously. He can't help it, he had an unfair start in life."

Skye closed her eyes and nodded, and John understood that she must know about his junior's childhood.

"He told you, eh? That's a bit of a surprise, he usually holds those cards pretty damned close to his chest. I guess you really _did_ get under his skin."

"he ok?" she typed.

Agent Garrett patted her arm soothingly. "Right as rain, especially now that you're awake. I texted him, he's on his way. If he shows up in his PJs clutching a teddy bear, we won't tell a soul, right?"

"no promises. take pics, ill tweet them."

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "You really are a hell-raiser, aren't you? No wonder you got Grant's cage so rattled."

Skye managed to look somewhat embarrassed. "how long?"

John sighed. "A while, sweetheart," he began, rubbing the back of his head. "A few weeks. The team has been out and back a number of times since you were shot, putting out fires started when Quinn was taken out. They had to strike while the iron was hot… well, I'm sure you know that. Someone always stayed with you, though… Coulson's orders. Not that any of them would have it any other way, of course. You've got yourself quite a dedicated little family here."

Tears spilled down Skye's cheeks, and John rubbed her arm somewhat awkwardly. Just as he opened his mouth for a soothing remark, Agent Ward burst into the hospital room at a full sprint. He froze as his eyes met Skye's.

"See, what did I tell you?" Agent Garrett said. "Grandrookie's finally awake."

Grant would have said something if all of his words weren't warring and tangled at the front of his mouth. Instead, he launched himself towards Skye's bed and wrapped his arms around her head, kissing the top of her crown soundly.

Skye weakly squirmed in protest and tapped a message out furiously. "ewwww ward! hair is gross!"

Agent Garrett laughed, and Grant read the tablet but did not let go of her. He pushed several chunks of hair from her forehead. "Oh my God, Skye…. you have no idea how little I care," he murmured to her with a wide smile. His reply seemed to break a barrier within her and she began to cry in earnest, slowly bringing her arms up to clutch at his as he rocked her gently. He was whispering softly, phrases of "I've got you" and "shhh, it's okay" on repeat.

Agent Garrett raised a curious eyebrow. He knew Grant Ward, or thought he did, anyway, and this was a side of his rookie that he would have laughed at the possibility of, had anyone ever suggested it existed. Grant was solid, Grant was serious, Grant's mind was always on the mission. Agent Grant Ward would not run into an ICU in his boxers and cling, as though his life depended on it, to an itty bitty brown-eyed thing with greasy hair and a breathing tube….

"I'm, uh… I'm going to see if I can find Dr. Mendenhall," Agent Garrett commented. "See if they'll take that endotrach tube out."

"John," Grant looked up, relief etched all over his face. "Thanks… for letting me know first."

Agent Garrett paused in the doorway, giving his former rookie a long look. "Y'know, Grant," he said slowly. "I can see you got it bad, junior. And you'd better be _real_ careful. Position of authority? Not even the Prodigal Son Phil Coulson will be able to get you a pass for that."

Grant frowned, poised to argue with the senior agent, when Skye's cold fingers moved from his arm up to his face, pressing her unspoken questions into his cheek. The bottom fell out of his stomach, and he knew Garrett was right. Suddenly unable to breathe, he nodded gamely, and John quietly disappeared down the hall.

Skye's free hand fluttered on the keyboard. "what did he mean?" she had typed.

Ward sat down on the bed beside her, careful not to jostle her or any of the various medical devices attached to her. "Uhhh…. well," he exhaled loudly. "Let's wait until the doctor gets here, okay? Because… well…. Skye? We need to talk."


End file.
